


Good to the Last Drop

by mmmdraco



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/mmmdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a bitterness there that doesn't come until the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good to the Last Drop

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters, I mean no harm, I have no money... Stuff like that. Yeah.

We met for coffee last night: Duo and I. It's a ritual thing; the routine that we, as persons in a relationship, had fallen into.

Last night was different, though. He wore his hair in a braid. For the past year and a half , we've had coffee together every Friday night at eight o'clock in the evening on the patio of the bistro a block from his place, a block from mine. He wore his hair down every time. He was supposed to be moving in next week. But, that's sort of fallen through.

He told me that he's found someone else. He loves me, sure, but I'm so stuck in my routine that there's no "excitement" anymore. He wouldn't tell me who this someone else is, but I've got reason to believe that it's the same someone who left Quatre for the same reason... Quatre who had Wufei to run to. I've got no one.

As soon as he said "I can't do this anymore," I started into my coffee. Every breath I took became a sip. If nothing else, it kept me from asking "Why?" He'd already told me. I didn't need to hear it again. Really, I didn't.

He said that he'd been "unsatisfied" with our relationship for a few months now. I wanted to say,"So, why the hell didn't you say anything then, you bastard? Why now?" But, I drank my coffee instead. A touch of sugar, a teaspoonful or so of cream. I wasn't going to say things I didn't mean. He was giving me the things I needed to know. However, I didn't need to know that today he'd be with Trowa Barton. I didn't need to overhear from people in the produce section of the supermarket that they'd been "together", but not officially, since almost six months ago. So, he didn't tell me. I found out today after that last bitter drop.

Coffee is a funny thing; not quite like anything else. It's a bean that's put to a test against heat, then it's demolished, then you force hot water through it in order to make something that you drink to the dregs and always forget. Most people flavor it in some way, too. Whether it's cream and sugar or french vanilla Coffeemate is up to their tastes and opinions.

And that's what I made myself think about when he was explaining to me why I was boring and unimaginative, both in bed and out. I listened, but I didn't let myself think about it. You speak at about half the rate you think. So, in normal activities, you have the opportunity to think twice. But, in this case, I knew I'd regret even those words which I'd given two think-throughs. If he wants to break things off, I'll let it be a clean break, like a coffee mug that falls off a short table. Sure, there's always those few little bits of ceramic which have flaked away, but it's in about three or four big pieces and the handle is the part most broken. Well, hell, we sure lost a handle on this.

When he finishes, telling me that his "spirit" is communicating a need to move on to something more varied, he swigs down the rest of his own cup of coffee which he'd had almost to the bottom of the cup when I'd gotten there. He'd obviously been there for a bit. He grabs a wadded napkin off the table and seems to be trying to hide it. Obviously, this seat was warmed by my successor. I can only wonder if it was Trowa like I think. I would only know if his cup had been here. He always drinks hot chocolate at coffee shops.

I'm still sort of living in yesterday when he asked me, "You are okay with this, Heero, right? I mean, things were going sort of downhill." And I nodded, took a breath, and took the last big gulp of my coffee, feeling my cheeks bulge with the mass and I swallowed.

"Sure, Duo. It's for the best." A moment later, he was gone. His jacket was off the chair, his wadded napkins were surrounding an empty mug, and a spoon stained the tabletop where he'd cast it aside after it's use to drip of a few clinging drops of coffee.

I looked into my cup and a single drop remained pooling at the bottom. I tilted the mug to the side, lifting it to my lips and pulling my head back. That one drop rolled down the smooth ceramic so slowly, leaving just the faintest trace of its path, collecting at the edge before falling.

And I can't help but think that the last drop of coffee that dripped from the edge of the mug and onto my tooth, dropping onto my tongue, tasted a bit like blood... or maybe heartbreak.


End file.
